La Belle Marionnette Français
by The Muse of Deduction
Summary: Title means 'The Beautiful French Puppet.' "The marionette follows the movements of her puppet master, never to question, never to doubt; only to go along." Fleur throughout her life, trying to figure out what she really wanted all along, discovering things she didn't know about herself. A hint of Bill too.


**A/N: Written for King of the Fanfics challenge. We were given a magical school/ house of Hogwarts and we had to write about a person from that school/house.**

**I received Beauxbatons and wrote about Fleur. Enjoy! Title means 'The Beautiful French Puppet.'**

**. . .**

Fleur Delacour was a special girl, even she knew that. How could she think any different? She was quarter-part veela, was the eldest daughter of her family, and her little sister looked up to her. Yes, she was special indeed.

When she was young, no matter what her cousins did, she had always been in the spotlight. Sure, it led to many arguments and a rift between her and most of her family on her father's side. But Fleur didn't pay much attention to that; her father's side never really liked her anyways.

Her mother's side was a completely different matter. They loved having her around and didn't mind sharing the spotlight with one of their cousins. After all, they all had some veela blood in them. It was better than having someone outside the family show them up.

"_Fleur! Come here! Let us do your hair!"_

"_My my Fleur, you look magnifique in that dress!"_

"_Oh Fleur! How did you get your hair that way?"_

"_Aren't you a darling little girl Fleur? Just like your mother!"_

Fleur had accepted the praise without a second thought. What was there to think about? She was amazing, wasn't she? So why should she question it?

_**The marionette follows the movements of her puppet master, never to question, never to doubt; only to go along.**_

She went on like this for many years. At school, her majestic Beauxbatons, the attention was always on her. Whispers of jealously from other girls, the fawning from the boys, the exclaims of recognition and praise for a job well done. She deserved all of this, right? It was only proper, right? After all, Fleur Delacour deserved the attention she got.

When the prospect of being the school champion for the Triwizard Tournament finally appeared, she couldn't resist. She was tired of being complemented and asked out just because of her looks. It was getting annoying. _Very_ annoying.

"_You are as beautiful as the sunrise my dear Fleur. Will you honor me with a date?"_

"_A rose by any other name is just as sweet. Its beauty can never compare to the lovely Fleur. Join me for a stroll?"_

Some other girls had dared to say that she had not one single intelligent thought inside her pretty head. How dare they! How dare they say something like that! She was Fleur Delacour! So she had jumped at the opportunity, to show all of them that she wasn't just some pretty face.

When she was chosen as a champion, she allowed herself to look as if she had expected it all the time. After all, she couldn't let her excitement show. She was like a _marionnette. _Upholding her image, not letting any feeling escape her facade, falling into her usual patterns that were created by the people around her- much like a marionette falls into the patterns created by the puppet master.

_**She dances to her masters whims, never to differ her routine.**_

Fleur was, to be honest, completely shocked and happy that she had been chosen. There had been other, and to be completely truthful, better students for the job. But the goblet had chosen _her,_ not because of her beauty like many times in the past, but because _she_ was _worthy_ to hold the title. Nothing could mean more to her at that moment.

The Yule Ball arrived and was better than she expected. Of course, she would never say that, only pointing out the faults to this 'great school,' sharing her thoughts on how her school was so much better. Her date was a disappointment though. Sure, he was handsome and popular enough, but couldn't hold a decent conversation. How terribly _annoying._ He hadn't even made an attempt to get to know her! He had only wanted to kiss her, so she played along.

Another person that only liked her for her beauty. How she _cursed_ the veela blood in her at times.

The only time she let her pride fall was when that boy, Harry Potter, had saved her sister. Her sweet Gabrielle wasn't saved by her, but by a boy that didn't even know her. She had failed to rescue what meant most to her. That got her thinking.

Maybe she didn't deserve all the praise she had gotten after all.  
Maybe she wasn't as good as she thought she was.  
Maybe she was _unworthy_ of all the attention she received.  
She did not even deserve the points awarded to her!

But these were only fleeting thoughts, being banished to the back of her mind as she fell into the control of the puppet masters that surrounded her. She was Fleur Delacour! Of course she deserved all she got!

_**A flicker of uncertainty, only to pass. Her strings are still intact; she doesn't doubt, she doesn't question; only to go along with her masters thoughts.**_

The girl had a new appreciation for her sister though. From that moment on, she tried her hardest to be a better role model for her darling little Gabrielle.

She did not win the tournament, but that had hardly mattered. There had been a death, a murder apparently. Winning did not matter to her anymore, knowing that someone had lost their life. So she returned to France, back to her loving family, being showered in compliments from her cousins and admirers.

Fleur just couldn't go back to being happy and proud of all the attention she got. She didn't think she deserved it all. Others deserved some attention too, right? Like Gabrielle, who had such a gift with art. Her parents realized that and praised her. Shouldn't her aunts and uncles pay attention to her as well? So what if she wasn't as beautiful as Fleur?

Her friends were becoming a slight annoyance to Fleur as well. There were a few, yes, that weren't as superficial as the rest. Most of them though just talked about beauty and gossip, never holding a real solid conversation with her. She was tired of that. The old Fleur would've enjoyed those conversations, but now? Now she wanted something different.

She wanted someone to see beyond her beauty.  
She wanted someone to not praise her every move.  
She wanted someone that _saw_ her flaws and still cared about her.  
She wanted someone to see the _real_ Fleur Delacour, to help the real her come out.  
She wanted someone _different._

_**The marionette wants to break free. She wishes to stop this boring routine. But how can she? She is not strong enough alone to go against her master; her strings are still intact, so she will continue to dance. Not as easily as before, but dance she will continue to do.**_

Sure, her parents and sister were all these things, but she wanted an outsider to do those five measly things. Fleur _craved_ for someone to see beyond everything she had set up, to cut away the strings and set her free. She _needed_ someone to help her, because she couldn't do it by herself.

The trip to England really had changed her.

And she found that person while taking up a part-time job at Gringotts. A man with bright blue eyes and fiery red hair tied back in a ponytail. _The one that would set her free from her strings._

She had met him before, sometime during the Triwizard Tournament. They hadn't spoken a word to each other, but she found herself talking to him more and more each day. The words came easily. He didn't fawn over her like so many boys had. He didn't treat her like a china doll. He treated her like a _person._

William 'Bill' Weasley.

Slowly but surely, Fleur found herself falling in love. She didn't use any of her veela charm, not wanting to ruin something so _perfect._

So the day he had asked her out on a date was the best in her life.

"_Fleur, I was just wondering if you would, well, like to go to dinner with me?"_

_Fleur looked at Bill, slightly shocked. She had never thought he would do something like this. Bill, catching the look of shock on her face, quickly shook his head. "It's alright, I'm sorry. Just as friends maybe?"_

"_No Bill," She said, smiling brightly. "I would like to go on, what do you call it? A date with you."_

Until, of course, Bill had proposed to her.

She had gotten her wish; someone to love her for her. Someone to look beyond her beauty.

Someone that loved her for _her,_ regardless of what she looked like. All praise was meaningless to her. It was only when Bill praised her that mattered to the woman. Those were the only compliments she loved.

_**Someone has finally come along; someone has finally heard her song. This is the one that has set her free. This is the one that cut her strings. The one that has helped the marionette escape.**_

_**She can finally be who she wants to be. She can finally be her own master.**_

_**But she will stay by his side.**_

_**There was no other place she would rather be.**_

All she really needed was Bill.

And she was perfectly happy with that.

She was no longer Fleur Delacour; she was Fleur Weasley.

And she could never be more ecstatic.


End file.
